Swarm of bobble projectiles, pyramidal and saucered, level-side down, lifting (effervescent) over the lip (reflective) into a grim rictus, they cease (sucked downward)(grey pigeons into evening) where streamers float over the null against a spackled backwall.

Texture communicated as color: it does not glow and yet light appears embedded at the perimeter. Knobby florets moving radially over the curve, the curve extremetizing distance, distance weighing against foreground. Were vision such an improvisation rising spontaneously out of itself, with whom could it be shared?

Fuegos fatuos, white
shadows strewn across
Pantone 433 blackness. Sub-
tracted from the visible as a joke
is irreversible. Or perhaps
it wasn’t. Which was
his own view of the case.

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Image © Michael Flomen / Text © Forrest Gander
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